


Patriot Games

by enigmaticblue



Series: Child's Play [3]
Category: Captain America, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a charmer, at any age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patriot Games

**Author's Note:**

> Enough people wanted more, and I couldn’t resist wee!Steve. Additionally, many thanks to [this list](http://metavengers.livejournal.com/2968.html) on metavengers. I’m going under the assumption that at least some of Steve’s ailments came a little later in childhood, and were brought about by poor nutrition and lack of medical care. And, oh yes, this is where things get shippy.

**1.**

 

Phil is the one who notices that Steve is missing, mostly because he misses a briefing at SHIELD’s New York office. If it had been Stark, Phil would have written it off, or possibly called Pepper or Bruce, but Captain Rogers is nothing if not conscientious and punctual, and when he doesn’t answer his phone, it’s clear something is wrong.

 

Phil could send a team of agents, but that might embarrass Steve, and Phil doesn’t want to do that if he can help it. He suspects Steve is going to feel bad enough just missing the meeting.

 

Steve still lives in Brooklyn, in a third-story walkup with minimal security, although the neighborhood is decent. Phil makes a note of that and resolves to bring it up with Steve. If nothing else, they should get some cameras installed in the lobby.

 

Phil knocks on Steve’s door but gets no answer, and he knocks again, calling out, “Captain Rogers, if you’re in there, I need you to answer me so I know you’re alive.”

 

There’s still no answer, and Phil tries the door next. The handle turns easily, and the door swings open. The chain’s hanging loose, and Phil draws his gun. “Captain Rogers?”

 

He hears a small sound from the back of the apartment and moves cautiously in that direction. Steve’s bedroom is as neat as a pin with a single bed and a small table.

 

Phil wonders what people would say if they saw where Captain America sleeps most nights.

 

He hears someone sniff, and to Phil’s inexpert ears, it sounds like a child. “It’s okay,” Phil calls, gentling his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He holsters his weapon, knowing that he’s taking a risk. “Come on out.”

 

Moving around the bed slowly, he keeps his hands in plain view, and sees the boy huddled in a corner, his knees tucked up into an oversized t-shirt that’s slipping down his shoulders. Blond hair flops into his eyes, and he wears an expression that’s equal parts defiant and scared.

 

“My dad’s not here,” he says. “My mom neither.”

 

Phil crouches down in front of him. “I’m not looking for them, but you probably have been.”

 

His bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know where they are. They haven’t come back yet. And I—I don’t know where I am.”

 

The voice is higher, younger, but he’d know that face anywhere, and Phil has now had to deal with both Banner and Stark in child-form. Steve is easily recognizable, in spite of the change in age.

 

“You’re in Brooklyn,” Phil replies. “And I don’t know what happened, or how you got here, but I promise I’ll find out. You’re Steve, right?”

 

“Steve Rogers.” Steve rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “Who are you, mister?” he asks, a trace of skepticism in his tone.

 

“My name is Phil,” he replies. “I’m with the government.”

 

“Are you a cop?” Steve asks suspiciously.

 

“Nope,” Phil replies easily. “I’m with a secret government agency.”

 

“If it’s so secret, why are you telling me about it?”

 

Phil chuckles. “Fair point. I’m telling you because we’re trying to figure out what happened here, and it seems you’re right in the middle of things.”

 

Steve nods. “What’s going to happen to me while my parents are gone?”

 

Phil thinks about just taking Steve home with him, but his one bedroom apartment is no place for a child, and he doesn’t have anything in the way of supplies.

 

“I’m going to call some friends of mine,” Phil promises. “You can stay with them while I’m looking for your parents.”

 

Steve looks a little alarmed at that. “I won’t be staying with you, Mister Phil?”

 

“Ah, no,” Phil replies, allowing his real regret to show on his face. “But I’ll be by to check up on you whenever I can, and you’re going to really like Bruce.” He doesn’t say anything about Tony, mostly because he doesn’t think that Steve and Tony will get along any better now than they have before.

 

Steve nods bravely. “Yessir.” He flushes. “I don’t have any other clothes here.”

 

“That’s okay,” Phil assures him. “You can wrap up in a blanket, and I’ll call for a car. Nobody will see you.”

 

Steve looks at him uncertainly. “Your friends won’t mind?”

 

Phil thinks that Steve is about the same size Bruce was when he got transformed, and he knows Pepper still has those clothes. Steve is probably a little older, but he’s small for his age, and a little frail, which jives with what Phil knows of Steve’s record.

 

“I’m going to give them a call right now,” Phil promises. “But no, they won’t mind. This is the kind of thing they do.”

 

Phil dials Bruce’s direct line, knowing that he’s more likely to both have his phone on him, and to answer. Pepper is in Dallas, overseeing the opening of a new Stark-run building, and Stark won’t take Phil’s calls.

 

Sure enough, Bruce picks up immediately. “Agent Coulson? Is everything okay?”

 

“Captain Rogers missed his meeting this morning,” Phil explains. “And when I arrived at his apartment, I found Steve.” He pauses. “How old are you, Steve?”

 

“Seven,” he replies definitively.

 

“He’s seven,” Phil adds.

 

There’s a few seconds of silence, and Banner says, “I see. I think we kept everything from before, and he technically has a guest room here. I’m guessing that’s why you’re calling.”

 

“I need to track down the person responsible,” Phil confirms.

 

Bruce sighs, and then he chuckles. “Yeah, well, if I can handle Tony, I can handle anybody, right? Bring him over. I’m going to be around here all day.”

 

“Can you find some clothes?” Phil asks. “We don’t have much.”

 

“They’ll be waiting,” Bruce promises. “I’ll take care of him. Steve was good to me when I was—well, you know.”

 

Phil smiles. “Thanks.”

 

He pulls the blanket off the bed, disturbing its military neatness, and hands it to Steve. “I’ll call for a car.”

 

Steve tries to wrap the blanket around himself without letting go of the too-large boxer shorts, blushing even more brightly, his blond hair flopping down over one eye.

 

Phil tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, asking for a car to pick them up, even as he waves Steve’s hands away and wraps the blanket around him. “Yes, that’s right,” Phil replies when the junior agent confirms the address. “The sooner the better.”

 

He puts his phone in his pocket and says, “Hang onto your shorts. I’ll worry about the blanket.”

 

“People will stare,” Steve protests.

 

“I’ll tell them I’m taking a sick kid to the hospital,” Phil counters. “It will be fine.”

 

His phone buzzes with a text a few seconds later, letting him know that the car is just a couple of minutes away. Phil glances up to see Steve staring at his phone in wide-eyed wonder, and he knows the kid is just going to have more questions as soon as they step outside.

 

Phil’s had to deal with a lot of weird things as a SHIELD agent, things that hadn’t been covered in training—superheroes, unmovable hammers, alien invasions, getting stabbed by a god. He’s known for being unflappable, and he’s dealt with de-aged Avengers before, but he never thought he’d be dealing with a pint-sized version of his own childhood hero.

 

How the hell is he supposed to explain that Steve had moved more than 80 years forward in time?

 

Steve doesn’t say anything about the phone, though, so Phil tucks it back in his pocket and picks him up, and Steve wraps one thin arm trustingly around his neck.

 

The calm doesn’t last long, though. As soon as Phil steps outside, he hears Steve’s sharp inhale, and then he begins to wheeze alarmingly. The car pulls up in front of them, and Phil gets in as quickly as he can, keeping a tight grip on Steve.

 

“Stark Tower,” he directs, and then turns his attention to Steve, who’s still trying to gasp for breath. “Okay,” Phil soothes. “Okay, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath for me. In and out.”

 

Steve presses his face into Phil’s shoulder, and Phil breathes deeply, willing Steve to match his rhythm.

 

Stark and Banner had seemed to accept the changes in their environments without question, but there’s a hell of a difference between forty years and eighty.

 

Steve’s breathing eases slightly, although there’s still a wheezing sound that Phil doesn’t like, and he says, “I’m very sorry, Steve. I should have warned you.”

 

“Where are we?” Steve asks plaintively, a hitch in his voice, although his eyes are clear when he looks up at Phil.

 

He is, after all, just a little boy.

 

“We’re still in New York,” Phil assures him. “But it’s 80 years in the future.”

 

Steve blinks, and Phil can see him trying to decide whether or not to believe that explanation. “How come?”

 

“I don’t know,” Phil replies honestly. “But I’m going to do everything I can to get you back where you belong.”

 

It’s not really a lie. He will do what he can to return Steve to his normal self, and there’s a small, fatalistic streak in Phil that believes that nothing happens without a purpose. Captain Steve Rogers had been lost, and then was found just in time to save the planet.

 

Even Phil’s near death experience hadn’t gone to waste, which was just what he’d wanted at the time.

 

Steve sniffs and nods, apparently deciding to believe him. His bottom lip trembles just a little as he asks, “My parents are dead, aren’t they?”

 

Phil’s had to deliver a few notifications in his time, but this is something else altogether. Still, there’s no denying this particular truth. “I’m sorry.”

 

Steve nods slowly. “Am I gonna get back there?”

 

Phil wants to lie; he wants to tell this boy that everything will be okay, and he’ll see his parents again, and he’ll get back to his own time, but he can’t.

 

He lies for a living—or at least shades the truth, but he can’t look into Steve Rogers’ eyes and tell him that he’ll be able to travel back in time.

 

And really, when Steve is back to normal, he’ll probably appreciate the honesty.

 

“I don’t know,” Phil finally says. “We’ll try, but I don’t think so.”

 

It’s as much of the truth as he’s willing to give, and it’s painful enough for both of them.

 

Steve nods bravely and sniffs once. His breathing still sounds a little labored, which worries Phil, but he trusts that Bruce will at least know whether Steve needs to go to the hospital.

 

Phil isn’t terribly surprised when Steve’s eyes drift closed, and he dozes off, twitching restlessly against Phil’s chest. The afternoon sunlight is dimmed by the deep tint on the SUV’s windows, but Phil can see the shadows under Steve’s eyes.

 

He nudges Steve awake when the car pulls into the underground garage of Stark Tower, and Steve grumbles sleepily. “Come on,” Phil coaxes, picking Steve up.

 

Bruce meets them when the elevator spits them out in the living quarters, smiling at them both. “Agent Coulson, it’s good to see you again.”

 

“You too,” Phil replies. “This is Steve. Steve, this is Dr. Banner.”

 

“Hi, Steve. I’m Bruce. How are you feeling?”

 

Steve shrugs. “I’m okay.”

 

Bruce’s eyes narrow. “Hm. You sound like you’re wheezing a little bit. How’s your asthma?”

 

“Are you really a doctor?” Steve asks.

 

Bruce nods. “I sure am.”

 

He isn’t the kind of doctor Steve has in mind, but Phil is grateful for the careful shading of the truth under the circumstances.

 

Steve presses the heel of his hand against his chest. “It’s a little hard to breathe,” he admits.

 

“Then let’s get you figured out,” Bruce replies. “But how about after you get into some more comfortable clothes.”

 

While Steve is changing, Phil says, “Thanks for doing this, Dr. Banner. Does Stark know?”

 

Bruce smiles slightly. “I don’t think there’s anything that goes on here that he doesn’t know, but I haven’t seen him yet this afternoon. I had to text Pepper to find out where the clothes were.”

 

“I’m surprised she kept them,” Phil admits.

 

“Pepper is surprisingly sentimental at times,” Bruce replies, his expression fond. “And I think Steve is about the size I was.”

 

Steve wanders out of the bedroom a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks.

 

“You’ll blend in perfectly,” Phil assures him.

 

Bruce pats the space next to him on the very modern couch. “Let me listen to your lungs.” He pulls out a stethoscope, and directs Steve to take a breath. “Just breathe as deep as you can, but don’t push it.”

 

Steve takes a breath and immediately starts coughing.

 

Bruce rubs his back soothingly. “It’s okay. Go easy.”

 

Steve gets his breathing under control with some difficulty, and Bruce pats him gently on the back. “We’ll get you an inhaler, and that should help.”

 

Steve frowns. “An inhaler?”

 

“It’s medicine to help you breathe better,” Bruce explains. “You breathe it in—inhale it.”

 

Understanding dawns on Steve’s face. “Oh, I get it. I’ve never had one of those.”

 

“They’re pretty useful,” Bruce replies. “I’ll bet you like to draw. Am I right?”

 

Steve smiles cautiously. “Yes, sir.”

 

“It’s just Bruce,” he says. “Let me see if I can find my supplies. I know they’re around here somewhere.”

 

Phil knows that at least some of that is for Steve’s benefit, and Bruce knows exactly where the drawing supplies are. When he glances at the fridge, there’s still a childish drawing there—three stick figures, obviously a man, a woman, and a child. Phil suspects it’s one that Bruce had drawn when he had been small.

 

“Here we are,” Bruce says, returning with a small sheaf of plain white paper and a bucket of crayons. “Do you mind if I talk to Agent Coulson for a minute?”

 

Steve shakes his head, although his expression is a little uncertain.

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Phil assures him. “We’ll be right here.”

 

They move a little ways away. “Where is Stark?” Phil asks in a low voice.

 

Bruce shrugs. “His lab, I think. I haven’t seen him yet today.”

 

Phil smiles. “I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

 

“Only some of the time,” Bruce replies with a self-deprecating smile. “Do you know what happened?”

 

Phil shakes his head. “There was no sign of a struggle or a break-in, but the door was unlocked. I didn’t want to question him too closely when he clearly doesn’t remember much. That being said, if he lets something slip…”

 

“I’ll let you know,” Bruce promises. “We’re sure Loki hasn’t escaped?”

 

“We’ve been keeping close tabs on him since that thing with Stark,” Phil replies. “I hate to leave this to you, but—”

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Bruce assures him. “We’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ll keep you updated,” Phil promises. “And I’ll stop by soon to check up on Steve.”

 

Bruce nods. “Of course.”

 

Phil knows he needs to talk to Steve, but he has no idea what to say. He’s good at dealing with unusual things, but this is a little outside his ken.

 

“Hey,” he says, kneeling down next to Steve. “I’ll be back, but I need you to stay with Dr. Banner right now.”

 

Steve nods. “It’s okay. You have to go to work.”

 

“I do,” Phil agrees. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Steve insists. “I’m old enough to look after myself. My parents trust me by myself all the time.”

 

Phil smiles. “Then I guess you’ll be okay here.”

 

It’s harder to leave than he thought it would be, but he does it all the same. He has a report to make to Fury, and he needs to find out who has done this to Steve.

 

“Take care of him,” Phil says as Bruce shows him out the door.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I guess that’s what I do.”

 

**2.**

 

Tony emerges from his lab and heads to Bruce’s, only to find it empty.

 

He frowns at the room and wonders where Bruce could be; he’s regular as clockwork, and Tony has Bruce’s calendar synched to his own. Between the hours of 8 and 5, Bruce can always be found in his lab if he has nowhere else he has to be. Before and after is a different matter altogether, but Bruce not being here now says something has happened.

 

“Jarvis, where’s Dr. Banner?” he asks.

 

“I believe he’s in the kitchen, making dinner,” Jarvis replies. “I did try to tell you, sir.”

 

Tony vaguely remembers Jarvis trying to get his attention mid-afternoon, but Tony had been in the middle of working through a problem with the large arc reactor, and he hadn’t been paying attention.

 

“Who’s he cooking for?” Tony asks, rubbing his hands on a rag.

 

“As I tried to tell you, sir, Captain Rogers is in the same condition you found yourself in several months ago. Agent Coulson has left him in Dr. Banner’s care,” Jarvis says.

 

Tony frowns. That means they’re going to have a kid underfoot—one who isn’t him or Bruce—and that Bruce’s attention will be elsewhere. “Why the hell is he here?”

 

“Unknown,” Jarvis replies.

 

“Rhetorical question,” Tony says. “I’ll just have to ask Bruce.”

 

He cleans the grease off his hands and heads to the living quarters, pausing when he sees a small, frail blond kid sitting on the counter next to the stove, his feet dangling. Bruce is tossing veggies in a pan. Tony smells the warm, distinctive scent of curry, and hears the low rumble of Bruce’s voice as he describes the streets of Kolkata.

 

And Tony has vague memories of doing just that, bugging Bruce while he cooked, with Bruce patiently answering his questions or listening to Tony’s chatter.

 

He must make a noise, or maybe Bruce just senses his presence, because he turns to smile at Tony. “Hey. Did you get my message?”

 

“I must have missed it,” Tony replies. “Jarvis told me, although he didn’t have any details.”

 

Bruce nods, as though he expects that answer. “Steve, this is my friend, Tony Stark. Tony, this is Steve Rogers.”

 

Steve waves shyly. “Hi.”

 

“Hey, kid,” Tony replies. “Bruce, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”

 

Bruce hands his spoon to Steve. “Just stir it occasionally,” he directs. “But be careful not to burn yourself.”

 

“I will,” Steve promises.

 

“What’s up?” Bruce asks once they’re out of earshot, but where Bruce can still check on Steve.

 

“What is he doing here?” Tony demands. “And what the hell happened? I thought Loki was contained.”

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “You know, if you’d actually pay attention when I call you over the intercom—”

 

“I was busy,” Tony defends. “You knew I was working on fixing the problem with the power fluctuations in the larger arc reactor.”

 

Bruce gives Tony a sharp look. “Why do you think I didn’t bother you after you didn’t respond to my message?”

 

“Okay, but seriously, what happened?”

 

“It’s not Loki,” Bruce replies. “Coulson found Steve after he failed to show up for a meeting, and brought him here while he looks into it.”

 

“But why is he _here_?” Tony demands.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Apparently, I have a bit of a reputation.”

 

Tony gives him a disgruntled look. “What reputation is that?”

 

“That I’m good with kids,” Bruce replies with a smile. “Especially after I dealt with you. What’s the problem?”

 

“The problem is that you’re not the team’s designated babysitter,” Tony says. “Why isn’t he at SHIELD?”

 

“Ah, that’s probably not the best place for a kid,” Bruce replies. “And I thought you liked kids.”

 

Tony gives him an incredulous look. “What gave you that idea?”

 

Bruce blinks. “Uh, well, you were good with me. I remember that much.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s because it was _you_ ,” Tony shoots back, and is fascinated when he sees the blush creep up Bruce’s neck. “Wait, are you _blushing_?”

 

“No, of course not,” Bruce replies, rubbing the back of his neck, turning an even deeper shade of red.

 

“You _are_!” Tony crows triumphantly.

 

Bruce looks away. “I should get back to dinner.”

 

“Yeah, I should get back to my project,” Tony says.

 

“Stay,” Bruce urges. “Steve’s not so bad.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I—”

 

“Pepper’s going to be home soon.”

 

Hearing Bruce use that word—home—goes a long way to easing Tony’s irritation; he knows how much that one word means coming from Bruce’s mouth. It tells him that Bruce is here to stay. “Jarvis, send what I’ve got to my tablet.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis replies, the volume loud enough that Steve can apparently hear, since he starts and looks up.

 

“You know, I was kind of hoping to hold off having to explain the talking house,” Bruce complains good-naturedly, drifting back over to the stove. “I’ll explain everything later,” Bruce assures Steve.

 

“Is it really a talking house?” Steve asks. “Is this a future thing?”

 

“It is in this house,” Tony replies. “If you need anything, just ask Jarvis. He can probably help you.”

 

Steve frowns. “Mr. Jarvis?”

 

“There’s no need for formality, Master Steve,” Jarvis replies, and the way he addresses Steve tells Tony he did a damn good job programming Jarvis to respond to even the most unusual situations.

 

“It’s just Jarvis,” Bruce adds. “He doesn’t have a title.”

 

“I’m at your service, Master Steve,” Jarvis says.

 

Steve nods, appearing uncertain. “Okay.”

 

Pepper walks through the door a few minutes later. “Boys,” she says, greeting Tony with a long kiss. It’s been too long since they’ve seen one another. “Hi.”

 

“Hey,” Tony replies after he kisses her again. “How was your day?”

 

“Oh, just fine,” Pepper replies. “Yours?”

 

“About the same,” Tony replies.

 

“Bruce,” Pepper says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And this must be Steve.”

 

“Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts,” Bruce says.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve replies, sticking his hand out.

 

Pepper shakes his hand firmly, a warm smile lighting her features. “It’s a pleasure.”

 

“Dinner in five,” Bruce says.

 

Tony doesn’t mind sitting down to dinner with Bruce and Pepper, but Steve’s presence makes things awkward. Tony can’t help but remember all the dinners at the large dining room table that had just been him and his mom—or even more often, just Tony.

 

Steve now has Bruce—and he can see that Pepper is already charmed, so Steve has her, too—but Tony didn’t have anybody growing up, other than the butler. Tony can’t quite reconcile how irritated that makes him.

 

And he doesn’t want to be irritated, because Steve is a good guy, and someone he respects, even if Tony doesn’t always like him, and Tony vaguely recalls what it had been like to be in Steve’s shoes.

 

Still, that doesn’t stop him from leaving just as soon as he possibly can.

 

“I’ve still got a few things to do,” he announces once he’s filled his plate. “Bruce, whatever you need.”

 

Pepper joins him in his lab a few hours later. “Are you coming to bed tonight?”

 

Tony’s still mostly just staring at the latest model of the arc reactor. “Maybe.”

 

Pepper leans against his workbench, her shoulder pressed to his. “You could have been a little nicer, you know.”

 

“Hey, I was nice!” he protests. “I said hello.”

 

“You could have stayed for dinner.”

 

“What was I going to talk about?” Tony demands, his anger sharp and hot.

 

Pepper has a look on her face that says she’s getting close to her own eureka moment. “You spent a lot of time with Bruce. You hated letting anyone else help.”

 

“That was _Bruce_ ,” Tony replies for the second time that night. “And this is Steve.”

 

Pepper’s gaze turns knowing, and she hums thoughtfully. “I see.”

 

Tony deliberately turns back to his model.

 

“I arranged for a doctor to come by tomorrow,” Pepper says. “Bruce wants to get him vaccinated, just in case.”

 

He doesn’t reply.

 

“I’m using your money to do it,” Pepper warns.

 

Tony turns to look at her. “You can use whatever money you want. Hell, hire a nanny; I don’t care. In fact, now that I think about it, that’s a great idea.”

 

“I think we can probably handle it, just like we handled you and Bruce,” Pepper replies with a smile. “And Bruce isn’t going to start ignoring you just because Steve is around.”

 

“I never thought he would,” Tony says.

 

She kisses him on the cheek. “Come to bed, Tony. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

Her expression is mischievous, promising all manner of naughty things, and Tony thinks that might be just what he needs in order to forget for just a little while.

 

“Oh, will you, Miss Potts?” he asks, and lets her lead him upstairs.

 

**3.**

 

Jane Foster had signed the employment contract with Stark Industries two weeks after meeting Tony Stark for the first time. Of course, she still had commitments, and so hadn’t been able to start until about four weeks ago.

 

She likes Stark Tower, and her onsite modern apartment with all the amenities, and she likes her co-workers.

 

And between her own equipment and what Stark Industries has provided, Jane is pretty much in geek heaven.

 

She heads up one flight of stairs and down the hall to Bruce’s lab, wanting to bounce a couple of ideas off him.

 

Jane has noticed that a lot of the developers at SI end up in Bruce’s lab. They’re too intimidated by Tony to ask him questions, but Bruce usually has an ear and a kind word for just about everybody.

 

She still has to pinch herself every so often; Jane still can’t quite believe that she’s working for _Tony Stark_.

 

Of course, she’s also dating a god, so surreal seems to be her life these days.

 

Speaking of surreal, Jane pauses just inside the door to Bruce’s lab when she spots the small boy sitting on a stool, slowly turning the pages of a large book with bright pictures.

 

The boy turns to look at Jane before she can retreat, offering a tentative smile, and Bruce turns to look in her direction.

 

“Jane,” Bruce says with a smile. “Good to see you.”

 

“I didn’t realize you had company,” she replies. “I can come back later.”

 

Bruce shakes his head, his expression rueful. “No, that’s—it’s okay. This is Steve Rogers. Steve, this is Dr. Jane Foster. She works for Tony, too.”

 

Jane shakes the hand that Steve holds out with a dawning realization. Bruce gives her a barely imperceptible nod, confirming her suspicions. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”

 

“What kind of doctor are you?” Steve asks curiously.

 

“I’m an astrophysicist,” Jane replies, and when Steve just looks lost, she adds, “I study stars.”

 

Steve perks up at that. “I like stars, but you can’t see as many inside the city. Just the brightest ones.”

 

“That’s very true,” Jane agrees.

 

Bruce says, “Steve, are you okay on your own for a bit?”

 

Steve nods decisively. “Yes, sir.”

 

Bruce shakes his head but doesn’t say anything other than, “Thank you.”

 

“I need details,” Jane says as soon as they’re out of earshot on the other side of the room, although she keeps her voice pitched low.

 

Bruce grimaces. “Phil found him yesterday like that. We’re not sure what happened yet. The doctor is coming by to give him his vaccinations in an hour, and I’m supposed to be going over calculations with—”

 

Tony strides into Bruce’s lab. “Banner! Where have you been?”

 

“—with Tony,” Bruce says, looking slightly harried. “Tony, you know I had something come up.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’ve got a deadline, and I need another set of eyes,” Tony replies. “Hey, Jane.”

 

Jane thinks it’s probably a good sign that Tony not only knows her name, but treats her with a casual courtesy. “Hi, Tony,” she replies, having been told very firmly _not_ to call him “Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony gives her a sharp look. “You like kids, don’t you?”

 

Jane frowns. “Are you asking me that because I’m a woman?”

 

“I—maybe,” Tony admits. “But mostly I’m asking because you like Steve.”

 

Jane can’t think of anybody who _doesn’t_ like Steve Rogers, unless it’s Tony. “I do,” she says cautiously. “But I’m pretty sure babysitting isn’t in my job description.”

 

“And that’s why I think we ought to get a nanny,” Tony insists. “Bruce, tell me I’m right.”

 

The expression on Bruce’s face is half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re definitely not right,” he replies. “We’ll be fine, Tony. I just have to wait for the doctor.”

 

Tony actually pouts, and Jane has seen jealousy in action often enough that she recognizes it in Tony.

 

“You know, Thor’s going to be here this afternoon,” she offers. “I’ll bet he’d watch Steve.”

 

Tony brightens, but Bruce looks a little more cautious. “I’m not sure how good Steve is going to be feeling after his vaccines, and he might not be up for a lot of activity.”

 

“I’ll let him know,” Jane replies. “Thor can be surprisingly sensitive.”

 

Tony rewards her with a big, sincere grin. “I knew there was a reason I hired you.”

 

“Other than for my brain?” she asks archly, knowing by now that it’s best if you don’t let Tony get away with anything.

 

“Other than your brain _and_ good looks,” Tony corrects her, but she can’t take offense. He’s definitely not hitting on her.

 

Probably because he’s too busy being jealous of Steve. Jane thinks he and Bruce are kind of adorable together.

 

“If you’re sure,” Bruce says, shooting Tony a quelling look. “This isn’t part of your job description, and Tony doesn’t expect you to babysit.”

 

Jane smiles. “If Tony expected it, I wouldn’t do it.”

 

Tony actually laughs at that. “Welcome to the Avengers,” he says. “We have weird shit for breakfast.”

 

“I’m dating a god,” she replies airily. “I think I can handle it. You’ll have your boyfriend back after lunch, but I need a moment of his time right now.”

 

She half-expects either or both of them to correct her, but Bruce ducks his head and Tony smirks. “Much appreciated, Dr. Foster.” Tony strides out of the lab without a glance at Steve, who watches him go with ill-disguised uncertainty.

 

“You really don’t have to do this,” Bruce insists after Tony is gone.

 

“Neither do you,” Jane observes. “Didn’t I hear that you got stuck with Tony, too?”

 

“I didn’t mind that either,” Bruce replies. “It’s Tony and Steve. I owe them. It would just be easier if…” He trails off, glancing at Steve.

 

Jane smiles, comparing the boy she’d met with the man she’s coming to know. “Tony’s jealous.”

 

“You could say that,” Bruce replies. “Anyway, what was it you needed?”

 

Jane shoots him the data on her latest equations for her article on the transmission of gamma rays through deep space. Asgard is still trying to rebuild the Bifrost Bridge, and Jane’s doing her best to help.

 

Plus, transdimensional travel is fascinating. Jane isn’t going to tire of the subject any time soon, and not just because her boyfriend spends half his time in the far reaches of space.

 

“This looks good,” Bruce says. “What did you want me to look at?”

 

“Fifth page,” Jane replies. “I’ve got a section on gamma radiation, and you’re the expert.”

 

Bruce nods. “I’ll take a look at it. You’ll have my comments by the end of the day.” He pauses. “But it might be late.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jane replies. She’d been hoping to get a little more out of Bruce, but she knows when not to push.

 

She remembers the small, shy boy she’d spent an afternoon with, and she feels a great fondness for him. “If you need any help, let me know,” she says.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “I can’t do that to you.”

 

“I’m only offering because I like you,” Jane replies with a smile. “And because if you’re going to co-author this article with me, you’re going to need the time to go over those equations and fill it out.”

 

Bruce grins. “It will probably be a relief. Thanks, and if I don’t see him, tell Thor thank you as well.”

 

“Bruce!” Steve calls. “I have to ask you a question.”

 

“Duty calls,” Bruce says with a wry smile. “I’ll get my comments back to you as soon as I can.”

 

Jane works on another project through the morning, and Thor shows up at lunchtime with a bag of takeout and a warm kiss that threatens to turn into something more.

 

“Hey,” she says breathlessly. “Thanks for lunch.”

 

“Anything for you,” Thor replies with a smile that holds a promise. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Starving,” Jane admits, although she’s not just hungry for food. “But I have some news.”

 

She can see Thor switch gears immediately. “What is it?”

 

“Steve was—” She stops, because Steve isn’t hurt, and she’s not sure how to explain it. “Remember what Loki did to Bruce?”

 

Thor blinks. “My brother remains imprisoned on Asgard.”

 

“I don’t know _how_ it happened,” Jane replies. “I just know that it did, and Bruce seems to have gotten stuck with the responsibility. I told him we’d look after Steve this afternoon.”

 

Thor nods. “Of course. I have a duty to help my friends.”

 

Jane smiles. “Steve isn’t—Bruce didn’t think he’d be feeling very well.”

 

He frowns. “Do we have time for lunch first?”

 

“I think we’d better,” Jane replies. “I heard from Darcy today,” she says, beginning to fill Thor in on the gossip he’s missed.

 

Thor clears out the last carton and pushes back from her lab table. “I’d like to see Steve now.”

 

Jane clears her throat. “Jarvis? Do you know where Steve is?”

 

“He’s upstairs in Mr. Stark’s living quarters,” Jarvis replies. “I believe he’s feeling rather ill.”

 

“Thank you,” Jane replies.

 

“Steve is staying with Bruce and Tony?” Thor asks.

 

“That’s my understanding,” Jane replies. “He has a bedroom that he stays in sometimes.”

 

Thor nods. “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

 

Jane feels a sense of relief. “How long can you stay this time?”

 

“I’ll stay as long as I’m able,” Thor promises. “As long as I can.”

 

Jane takes his hand and squeezes it in reply.

 

The elevator puts them out on Stark’s floor. As far as Jane knows, Bruce is the only one Tony has invited to live on this floor, with him and Pepper when she’s in town.

 

Steve is lying on the couch when they enter, with Bruce perched on the edge next to him, reading a thermometer. “Not too bad,” Bruce assures him. “But let me know if you start to feel worse.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Steve agrees.

 

“It’s just Bruce,” he replies, brushing Steve’s hair off his forehead, and then he catches sight of Jane and Thor. “Hey, Thor. Good to see you again.”

 

“It has been too long, friend Bruce,” Thor replies, shaking Bruce’s hand.

 

“Thor, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my friend, Thor,” Bruce says. “He and Jane are going to keep you company this afternoon, okay?”

 

Steve gives Thor a dubious look. “Okay.”

 

Bruce pulls them aside before he leaves. “He’s just not feeling great, which the doctor said might happen. He has an inhaler, if he starts to wheeze, or if his temperature goes up, you can give him children’s Motrin. Or you can call me, that’s fine. I’ll be in the building.”

 

“Don’t worry about us,” Jane insists. “We’ll be fine.”

 

Bruce squeezes her arm. “Seriously, _thank you_.”

 

“No problem,” she assures him.

 

Bruce pauses to ruffle Steve’s hair. “I know you’ll be good, but have Jarvis call if you need me.”

 

“Look what Agent Coulson brought me!” Steve says after Bruce leaves, a little subdued, but still relatively cheerful, as he holds up a sketchbook

 

Thor sits down next to him. “The son of Coul is a good friend.”

 

“I can draw in it, and look,” Steve adds, holding up a huge carton of crayons. “I didn’t even know there were this many colors!”

 

Jane smiles; it’s hard to resist Steve’s enthusiasm.

 

“Do you want to draw now?” Thor asks.

 

Steve hesitates, and then admits. “No, not really, Mr. Thor. My arm really hurts, and I don’t feel so good.”

 

“Then would you like to hear a story?” Thor asks. “It’s not often I can tell those of Midgard tales of my home.”

 

Steve brightens. “Where are you from?”

 

“Asgard,” Thor replies.

 

Jane adds, “It’s like Norway.”

 

“Where is that?” Steve asks, settling down on the couch. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

 

Jane can see the pain flash across Thor’s face, and then he smiles gently. “My brother Loki loves to make mischief,” he says. “I will tell you of a trick he played on our father when we were no bigger than you are now.”

 

She listens to Thor’s rumbling voice, and the easy cadence of a story often told. Steve’s eyelids droop, and his breathing evens out, and then Thor looks at Jane helplessly.

 

Jane stands and goes to him, and Thor rests his forehead against her stomach.

 

She wishes Thor could stay forever.

 

**4.**

 

Pepper feels a little sorry for Bruce. Not only has Phil saddled him with Steve, but he also has to deal with Tony. And since Pepper has been out of town on an unavoidable business trip, she hasn’t been able to give him any assistance.

 

She arrives back at Stark Tower a week after Steve had been afflicted, expecting to find chaos, and doesn’t see anyone in the living quarters. “Jarvis, where’s Bruce?”

 

“Dr. Banner is in his lab with Master Steve,” Jarvis replies.

 

Pepper raises her eyebrows. “And Tony?”

 

“I believe Mr. Stark may be sulking in his own lab.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Pepper says. She decides she’d rather see Bruce first, if only because she’ll have a better idea what to expect from Tony that way. Bruce is a good barometer, if nothing else.

 

Bruce is clearly multitasking when Pepper enters, dividing his attention between the information on one of the large info boards and Steve, who is sounding out the words of some kind of picture book.

 

“I don’t know this word,” Steve complains.

 

Bruce breaks off what he’s doing to look over Steve’s shoulder. “Sound it out,” he encourages. “You know the letters.”

 

“S-se-sep…” Steve stops, his brow furrowed. “Separate.”

 

“Very good,” Bruce says. “Keep going.”

 

Pepper clears her throat, and Bruce looks up, genuine pleasure making his face light up. “Pepper, hey. I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

 

She smiles. “I think you have your days turned around. It _is_ Friday.

 

Bruce winces. “Ah, yeah. It’s been an interesting week.”

 

“Hi, Steve,” she says. “How are you?”

 

“I’m good, Miss Potts,” Steve replies politely. “How are you?”

 

“Happy to be home,” Pepper replies, and then says, “Excuse us for a moment,” drawing Bruce aside. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

Bruce hesitates. “You only just got back, and you probably want to see Tony, don’t you?”

 

“I’m free all day tomorrow,” she counters. “And I can guarantee that Tony will be in a good mood.”

 

Her interest is piqued when Bruce clears his throat. “That’s—that’s good,” he stammers.

 

Pepper knows the signs of interest when she sees them, and Tony is far more possessive of Bruce than he is of just about anyone. If Pepper’s not mistaken, the only reason that Bruce isn’t just as possessive of Tony is that Bruce isn’t really that way about anything.

 

But ever since Bruce had returned to his usual self after Loki’s trick had worn off, he’d seemed more willing to settle down, to call Stark Tower his home, to stay on a permanent basis.

 

She’s glad of it, and not just because Bruce is good for Tony; she likes having Bruce around.

 

Pepper wonders if they have a prayer of making things a little more permanent with the three of them, and how she can possibly broach the subject, but she pushes it to the back of her mind and determines to take one thing at a time.

 

“Are you going to be okay for tonight?” Pepper asks.

 

Bruce nods. “Yeah, I’m good just knowing that I’ve got a day off.”

 

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Pepper counters. “You’ve got Tony tomorrow.”

 

Bruce laughs. “Trust me, not having to juggle Tony _and_ Steve will be a vacation.”

 

Pepper laughs. “I’ve got Steve tomorrow, and you’ve got Tony. How’s that?”

 

“Would it be too forward if I told you I love you right now?” Bruce teases.

 

Pepper grins broadly. “No, not even a little bit. Thank you, Bruce.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For being you,” she replies, and kisses him on the cheek, pleased when his ears turn pink.

 

“I’m not so special,” he protests. Pepper gives him a look that never works on Tony. Bruce, on the other hand, looks a little flustered. “Okay, I get your point,” he says.

 

“You’re a lot better at that than Tony is,” Pepper replies. “He usually ignores me on this sort of thing.”

 

Bruce laughs. “I’m inclined to listen to anybody who is offering me a day off.”

 

“You’re still going to have to deal with Tony,” Pepper teases.

 

“Trust me, it’s a day off,” Bruce says wryly. “Thanks.”

 

Pepper can’t resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair. “It will be fun. Just make sure that Tony doesn’t blow anything up.”

 

“I’ll try,” Bruce says dryly.

 

Pepper pauses next to Steve. “How do you feel about museums?”

 

“What kind?” Steve asks.

 

“Art museums,” Pepper replies. “Although we could probably find something else to do tomorrow if you’d rather.”

 

Steve brightens a bit. “I like paintings.”

 

“Perfect,” Pepper says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

She goes to find Tony next, finding him fiddling desultorily with what looks like a model airplane, probably something for SHIELD.

 

“Welcome back,” Tony says without looking at her.

 

Pepper goes over to him and puts her hands on his shoulders. “You’ll have your boyfriend back tomorrow, but you’ll have to make do with me tonight.”

 

“He’s been spending all his time with _Steve_ ,” Tony complains. “And before you say it, I understand why. I’m not a total jerk.”

 

Pepper presses her cheek to the top of Tony’s head. “You’re not a jerk, at least not most of the time.”

 

Tony pulls away from her and turns. “And what did you mean I’d have my boyfriend back tomorrow?”

 

“I’m taking Steve to MOMA,” Pepper replies. “So Bruce is all yours.”

 

“You don’t mind?”

 

Pepper kisses him, keeping it light and teasing. “Why should I mind? I like Steve, and I know how you feel about Bruce.”

 

There’s the faintest hint of guilt in Tony’s eyes. “I don’t—”

 

“It just so happens that I feel the same way,” Pepper continues. “But I don’t mind giving Bruce a break.”

 

Tony blinks, and then lets out a low chuckle. “I forget how much you see sometimes.”

 

“You forget how well I know you,” Pepper counters, and kisses him again, this time deep and dirty.

 

“Oh, Miss Potts,” Tony says in a low voice. “Tell me you have plans.”

 

She smiles. “The best kind of plans.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony sleeps that night, although it takes Pepper longer to drop off, since her body clock has been reset to another time zone. It’s not often that she gets to see Tony in repose, filled as he is with a nervous energy most of the time.

 

He twitches and murmurs something without waking, and Pepper puts a comforting hand on his chest. Tony rolls towards her, and she runs a hand over his hair. He curls into her side, and Pepper falls asleep like that, and wakes to find the space next to her empty.

 

That’s not terribly surprising, considering how little Tony sleeps as a general rule. Pepper is used to waking up alone, and she wanders out to the kitchen to find Bruce cooking breakfast.

 

Tony is working on his Stark pad, and Steve is paging through a book, and Pepper thinks this is about as tranquil as she’s seen them together.

 

“Good morning,” Bruce says.

 

Tony waves a hand vaguely, and Steve smiles hopefully. “Good morning, Miss Potts.”

 

“Aren’t you polite?” Pepper says, ruffling his hair. “Are you ready to have fun?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replies brightly.

 

“Call me Pepper,” she insists. “Otherwise, you’ll make me feel old.”

 

“You’re not old!” Steve says stoutly. “You’re really pretty!”

 

Bruce covers his laugh with a cough, and Tony glances up just long enough to glare at Steve, although he quickly looks down again.

 

“Thank you,” Pepper replies gravely. “Once we’ve had breakfast, we’ll head out.”

 

“Here you go,” Bruce says, putting two plates on the counter.

 

Pepper recognizes scrambled eggs mixed with veggies, and maybe sausage, as well as toast, and she digs in. “You know, if we hadn’t hired you for your skills, I’d suggest hiring you for your cooking,” she teases Bruce.

 

He flushes slightly. “It’s just eggs. Tony? You need to eat.”

 

“Yeah, fine,” Tony says. “If you’re cooking.”

 

“When do I not cook?” Bruce asks.

 

“When we go for takeout,” Tony shoots back.

 

Bruce grins at him. “Fair enough.”

 

As soon as she and Steve have cleaned their plates, Pepper says, “All right. You guys have fun today. We certainly will.”

 

Pepper has no intention of staying at MOMA all day. Steve is still just a little boy, and she doesn’t expect the museum to hold his interest for long.

 

Steve surprises her, though. He asks questions about the abstracts and other contemporary art, and he stares at the Van Goghs and the Picassos in awe.

 

“I could never be that good,” he breathes.

 

Pepper has seen his work, and she knows he has talent. “You never know,” she says. “Not unless you try.”

 

Steve shoots her a deeply suspicious look. “That’s what Bruce says.”

 

“Bruce is usually right about that sort of thing,” Pepper replies. “Are you ready to go on?”

 

They eat in the café in the museum, and then spend most of the afternoon at the MOMA before heading to the nearest park. Steve isn’t inclined to run around, but he shows her his inhaler and how it works.

 

“I can run now, wanna see?” he asks.

 

Pepper smiles at his earnestness. “Sure, let’s see.”

 

Steve runs and then has to suck on his inhaler, but they swing together, and Pepper pushes Steve on the merry-go-round.

 

“You’re really fun,” Steve confides as they start walking back to Stark Tower hand in hand.

 

Pepper hasn’t heard that much. “Thank you. I don’t often get a day off.”

 

“My mom doesn’t—didn’t—either,” Steve replies. “She works a lot.”

 

Pepper nods. “What about your dad?”

 

“He’s sick because of the war,” Steve confides. “It’s—um—mustard gas.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pepper replies gravely.

 

Steve shrugs, although his trembling lip gives lie to his nonchalant gesture. “He saved a lot of people.”

 

“I’m sure he did.”

 

“Someday, I’m going to save people,” Steve insists, his chin jutting out pugnaciously. “I’m not a wimp.”

 

“Definitely not,” Pepper agrees. “And yes, I’m certain you will.”

 

Steve deflates a bit at that when Pepper doesn’t argue, and he asks, “Does Mr. Stark not like me?”

 

Pepper has no idea what she should tell this version of Steve—any version of Steve, really. “Tony has a hard time figuring things out sometimes,” she replies. “And he doesn’t always know what to do with kids.”

 

“Bruce is nice,” Steve says after a pause.

 

“Yes, he is,” Pepper agrees. “He’s very nice.”

 

Steve gives her a sly, sidelong look. “So are you.”

 

“Thank you,” Pepper replies solemnly. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m great,” Steve insists.

 

They return to Stark Tower, and Pepper can see that Steve’s energy is flagging. “Why don’t you go lay down for a while?”

 

Indecision is writ large on Steve’s face. “Do I have to?”

 

“You could lay on the couch and watch a movie instead,” Pepper suggests.

 

Steve nods. “Okay.”

 

Pepper instructs Jarvis to find something inoffensive that Steve would enjoy, and then asks, “And where are Bruce and Tony?”

 

“They’re currently in Mr. Stark’s lab,” Jarvis replies. “Which is where they’ve been all day.”

 

“Great,” Pepper replies, and takes the elevator to that floor.

 

She peers through the door and sees Tony and Bruce working in silence, bouncing data back and forth. After a couple of minutes, Tony sidles up to Bruce, bumping the other man’s shoulder with his own. Bruce shoots him a grin and bumps back, and Pepper smiles fondly.

 

She makes a mental note to enlist help in the care and feeding of one Steve Rogers.

 

Bruce has been pulling a lot of weight, and it’s not helping anyone. Pepper’s first duty is to Stark Industries—and Tony Stark—which means that it’s time to find Bruce some assistance, if only to keep everyone on an even keel.

 

And Pepper’s not above begging, borrowing, or stealing under the circumstances, although she’d hopeful she won’t have to resort to such tactics.

 

She backs out of the room slowly, without Tony or Bruce catching sight of her, and then goes to check on Steve, who is deeply asleep.

 

Then, she does what she does best—she manages.

 

**5.**

 

Phil shows up at Stark Tower for the fourth time that week, which is unusual, but he feels responsible for Steve, and a little guilty for handing him off to Bruce. From what Pepper has said, Bruce is holding up admirably, but he needs some help.

 

Since Phil is the one who had deposited Steve into Bruce’s hands in the first place, he feels somewhat responsible.

 

“Hey, Phil,” Bruce says, because they’ve moved past formalities. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“You too,” Phil replies. “How are you?”

 

For a moment, the affable mask slips, and Phil can see the weariness beneath. Then, it’s back, and Bruce smiles easily. “I’m fine. Steve’s a good kid.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Phil replies. “Where is he?”

 

“The other room, working on a puzzle,” Bruce replies, and motions Phil to come with him. Steve is working on a holographic model of something. “It’s from when Tony was—you know. I built in different difficulty levels, and Tony wants to try marketing it.”

 

Phil raises an eyebrow. “He wants you to make toys?”

 

“Hard to believe, huh?” Bruce asks, and there’s something wounded in his eyes. “We’re still working out the details. Obviously, most people won’t have access to that kind of technology, but Tony’s shopping it around to some of the medical schools to help train surgeons, and we’re working on alternatives for—” He stops. “You don’t care about this.”

 

Phil doesn’t much, but he knows how to feign interest, and it’s clear that Bruce is passionate about the possibilities he’s been offered. “It’s interesting,” Phil replies.

 

Bruce shrugs. “You don’t mind staying with him for a while, do you? I have a few things I need to get done.”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Phil replies.

 

Bruce offers a relieved smile. “Thanks. He had kind of a bad asthma attack yesterday, so you might want to do something low key, but he’s feeling better than he was.”

 

“Bad?”

 

“The inhaler works most of the time, except when it doesn’t,” Bruce replies. “But he is doing better today.”

 

Steve looks up immediately when they enter the room, and his face lights up when he sees Phil. “Agent Phil! You came!”

 

“Of course I did,” Phil replies, feeling a warm flush of pleasure when Steve hugs him around the waist. “I brought a present, too.”

 

Steve looks a little bashful. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“I wanted to,” Phil replies, and holds up the bag. It’s not much, a basic set of watercolors, and a pad of paper, but Steve reacts as though Phil has given him the world.

 

“These are great!” Steve enthuses. “Bruce, did you see?”

 

“I saw,” Bruce replies. “They are great. Why don’t you paint Phil a picture? I’m going to be down in the lab if you need me.”

 

Steve nods. “I’ll be okay with Phil.”

 

“I know you will.” Bruce ruffles his hair and then nods at Phil. “Call if you need anything.”

 

“What do you want to do?” Phil asks.

 

Steve looks torn. “I don’t think I’m feeling good enough to go to the park. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, champ,” Phil assures him. “We all have our off days.”

 

Steve shrugs, his mouth an unhappy slant. “I have more of them than anybody else.”

 

Phil has to believe that this will wear off, or they’ll figure out how to reverse it, even if he hasn’t made any headway on the why or the who or the how Steve came to be in his predicament. But he’s hopeful, and he has to believe, and so he says, “You’re just getting the off days out of the way now. When you’re bigger, you’ll have more good days than not.”

 

Steve looks hopeful at that. “Really?”

 

“Really,” Phil promises. “So, what are you feeling up for?”

 

“We could watch TV,” Steve suggests. “Jarvis has a lot of programs recorded. It’s amazing.”

 

“I’m sure it is,” Phil agrees. “Come on, let’s see what we’ve got.”

 

They spend a pleasant afternoon watching TV together, although Steve falls asleep in the late afternoon, slumped against Phil, warm and trusting.

 

Really, this is the kind of babysitting that Phil doesn’t mind; he makes a note to do it more often.

 

**6.**

 

Technically, SHIELD agents _do_ accumulate leave, and there are those who even manage to take a vacation now and then, but Clint’s not one of them. If he doesn’t have a mission, he’s in training, and if he’s not training, then he’s probably in a hospital bed after some clusterfuck.

 

So, he’s looking forward to his three days off, especially as he’s in peak physical condition, with not even a scratch on him, and a full night’s sleep behind him.

 

When his phone rings and Coulson’s name appears, Clint thinks about not answering for about two seconds—because it’s Coulson, and that means the Avengers Initiative, and _that_ means weird shit. And Clint’s heard the scuttlebutt, so he’s pretty sure what kind of weird shit he’s in for this time.

 

The fact that it _is_ Coulson is the only reason Clint picks up. “Barton.”

 

“I need you at Stark’s in two hours,” Coulson replies.

 

Clint sighs. “I am allowed to have a day off.”

 

“You have three days off,” Coulson replies.

 

“And this is one of them,” Clint argues, but it’s half-hearted. He’s already pulling on his pants. “Is this about Cap?”

 

“You heard?”

 

Clint lets his silence speak for him.

 

“I have a meeting with the Director,” Coulson says.

 

Clint catches the underlying meaning—Coulson doesn’t mind watching the kid-sized version of Steve, but he can’t get out of his meeting with Fury. “I’ll be there,” Clint promises and hangs up.

 

The truth is that Clint likes Cap, who’s one of the few who hasn’t treated him any differently after Natasha rearranged his brain and got rid of Loki’s spell. Well, none of the Avengers had treated him differently, which is why Clint feels he owes them more than most.

 

He calls Natasha before he leaves, intending to leave a voicemail if she doesn’t answer. “I’m one-up,” he says when she picks up.

 

“One-up on what?” she asks, sounding amused.

 

“Babysitting. It’s your turn next.”

 

“Steve?”

 

“Steve.”

 

She makes an interested sound at his confirmation and says, “You’ll have to tell me if he’s as annoying as Tony was.”

 

Clint smiles. “Not possible.”

 

“Granted,” she says. “I’ll be in New York in two days.”

 

“How long do we have?”

 

“About eight hours,” she replies.

 

It’s longer than they often get, and Clint smiles. “I’ll look forward to it. Just don’t be surprised if Coulson ropes you into helping.”

 

“Someone needs to teach him the basics of self-defense,” Natasha retorts. “I have to go.”

 

She hangs up abruptly, but that isn’t uncommon, and Clint’s not worried. Natasha can take care of herself, and has done on many occasions. She’ll turn up in a couple of days, and they’ll spend what little time they have together, and it will be enough.

 

Even if Clint prefers missions where they’re both needed. There’s nothing quite like fighting side by side with Natasha.

 

Coulson meets him at the door when Clint arrives. “I should be done in a few hours,” he says.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Clint assures him. “Where are the others?”

 

“Bruce, Pepper, and Stark all had meetings, and Bruce has been hauling more than his share of the weight,” Coulson replies. “He deserves the afternoon off.”

 

Coulson leads him into the apartment, and honestly, Clint thought he was ready for it—he’d seen the pint-sized versions of Stark and Banner, after all, and he’s starting to get used to the weirdness.

 

But those two had been more obviously themselves, because Bruce and the Hulk had been the same, and Stark hadn’t been all that different either.

 

Cap, though—

 

He’s smaller, frailer than Clint expects, without the imposing physical presence that the serum had given him. Clint knows Steve’s background; he’s read the file, and a lot of Steve’s missions during World War II had been declassified over time. Clint knows that Steve hadn’t been a perfect physical specimen before the experiment, and now he has proof.

 

Steve seems diminished in a way that Banner and Stark hadn’t been, his blond hair flopping over one eye, bent over a sketchpad.

 

Coulson rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve had some time to get used to it.”

 

Clint nods. “I’m good.”

 

Steve looks up, and he smiles uncertainly. “Agent Phil?”

 

“Clint, this is my friend, Steve,” Coulson says, and Clint doesn’t miss the way Steve’s small chest puffs out at that. “Steve, Clint’s going to look out for you today.”

 

Steve frowns. “I’m okay on my own.”

 

“I’m sure you are,” Coulson says. “But I’d feel better if Clint stays with you. He’s one of my best men.”

 

Steve nods. “Okay, Agent Phil.”

 

There’s something akin to adulation in Steve’s eyes when he looks at Coulson, and Clint keeps a straight face with some difficulty, knowing that Coulson is something of a fanboy of Captain America.

 

Clint finds it both amusing and somewhat ironic that Steve is looking at Coulson in that way.

 

Looking at Steve’s serious expression, Clint has an idea. “What do you say to an afternoon on Coney Island?” he asks.

 

Steve’s grin is blinding. “I’ve only been once before.”

 

“Then it’s about time you go again,” Clint says.

 

“Do you have your inhaler?” Coulson asks.

 

Steve pats his pocket. “I’ve got it.”

 

“You’ve got our numbers if you need them,” Coulson says.

 

Clint nods. “Two guys like us? We’ll be fine.”

 

Steve grins. “You bet.”

 

Coulson smiles at him fondly. “I’ll bet you will. Look after him, Steve. He tends to get into trouble.”

 

Steve’s grin broadens. “Yessir.”

 

Clint is glad he’d thought to get the use of a SHIELD vehicle while on leave in New York, because it’s going to be a faster trip this time of day.

 

Coney Island is just as Clint remembers it—he can smell the brine of the ocean, and fried food. They’re limited to the kiddie rides because of Steve’s size, but they go on the Wonder Wheel and the B & B Carousell, and then to the Luna Park arcade.

 

Clint coaches Steve through skeeball and then pinball, and a few others. When Steve gets frustrated, Clint puts his hands over Steve’s and helps him. Steve does really well with Whack-a-Mole and insists on playing three rounds. He wins a purple stuffed monkey, and clutches it with a big grin on his face.

 

“Good job, buddy,” Clint congratulates him. “You ready to head back yet?”

 

Steve shakes his head. “Can we stay a little longer?”

 

“Long as you want,” Clint replies.

 

Steve has to use his inhaler once, but he recovers quickly after that. They go on all the rides that will take Steve, who turns a little green on the Tea Cups. As soon as Clint notices, he stops spinning, and they get off without Steve puking. Clint steers Steve over to a bench and sits while Steve takes deep breaths.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says miserably. “I’m a wuss.”

 

“Hey, everybody pukes,” Clint replies philosophically. “And at least you didn’t.”

 

“Even you?” Steve asks, and a little of the color has returned to his face.

 

Clint smiles, thinking of an early morning spent leaning over the toilet, heaving up his guts after a wild night on leave. “Even me.”

 

“I’ll bet Agent Phil doesn’t ever puke,” Steve says glumly.

 

“You might be right about that,” Clint replies with a wink in Steve’s direction, and a nudge of the elbow. “But he’s had years of practice being that awesome. You’re what? Seven?”

 

Steve nods.

 

“By the time you’re his age, I’ll bet you’ll be even cooler.”

 

Steve leans against Clint. “Probably not.”

 

“You never know,” Clint replies. “What’s next?”

 

“I’m a little tired,” Steve admits. “Is that okay?”

 

Clint nods. “No problem. What do you say to a movie? I haven’t been to a theater in a long time.”

 

Steve smiles. “Yeah!”

 

Clint buys popcorn, and they watch an animated flick that he finds more entertaining than expected. When he glances at Steve, the kid is paying attention, but blinking rapidly, clearly trying to stay awake, and he falls asleep almost as soon as they get in the car.

 

Clint brings him home and carries him inside, and Steve doesn’t even stir.

 

Bruce meets them at the door, and he raises his eyebrows when he sees Steve and the purple stuffed monkey. “I’d say it was a successful outing,” he murmurs. “This way.”

 

They get Steve undressed and tuck him under the covers with the monkey, and Bruce leads him back to the kitchen. “You hungry?”

 

“I could eat,” Clint admits. “But don’t go to any trouble.”

 

“I was just going to make a sandwich for myself,” Bruce replies. “I can make two just as easily. It’s the least I can do.”

 

Clint shakes his head. “I didn’t mind helping out. He’s a good kid.”

 

He watches Bruce make sandwiches, and catalogues the changes he sees. The last time he’d been over, Bruce had seemed relaxed, well rested, and happy. But now, the lines around Bruce’s mouth and eyes have deepened, and there’s the hint of unhappiness in the way his lips twist.

 

“Hey, doc,” Clint says when Bruce sets the plate with the sandwich in front of him. “You okay?”

 

Bruce looks taken aback by the question, and his expression clouds. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“Because you look—tense,” Clint adds before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, that’s all.”

 

“I’m only in town for another couple of days, but if I can help, I will,” Clint promises.

 

Bruce smiles, his expression sincere. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

 

Clint raises an eyebrow, realizing that he hasn’t seen Stark all evening. “This isn’t about Stark, is it?”

 

Bruce flushes. “I’m fine,” he repeats firmly.

 

It’s as good as confirmation, but Clint knows when not to press for more information. “Tell me when you’re not,” Clint says. “You have my phone number.”

 

“Thanks. Really,” Bruce says, and takes a big bite.

 

They spend the rest of the meal in silence, at least until Stark enters the room. “Bruce! There you are. I thought you were coming to the lab.”

 

“I was hungry,” Bruce replies mildly. “You do remember that you have to eat occasionally.”

 

Clint polishes off the last of his sandwich, trying to remain quiet and unobtrusive.

 

“I did eat,” Stark protests. “Lunch, I think.”

 

“I’ll make another sandwich,” Bruce says.

 

Stark shrugs and goes to make himself a drink. “Yeah, thanks, if you don’t mind.”

 

Clint is quite sure that Bruce has no idea how transparent his expression is once Stark’s back is turned. There’s so much longing there that it makes Clint’s chest ache, and he’s not all that sentimental.

 

Bruce’s expression is bland by the time Stark turns around, seeming to see Clint for the first time. “I hear you got stuck with babysitting duty tonight,” Stark says.

 

Clint shrugs. “We went to Coney Island. It was fun.”

 

“Hm.” Stark takes a seat next to Clint. “I’ve got the next generation of your arrows finished.”

 

Clint shoves his concern about Bruce to the back of his mind. “Can I see them?”

 

“Sure,” Stark says. “Bruce, you coming?”

 

There’s just the faintest hint of embarrassment on Bruce’s face. “I’ll bring your sandwich down when it’s done.”

 

“Hey, thanks for that,” Stark says carelessly, going over to Bruce and squeezing the back of his neck. “Seriously. See you in the lab?”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce agrees, his voice a little hoarse. “I’ll be there in a few.”

 

And suddenly Clint _sees_ , and all he can think is, “Poor bastard.”

 

**7.**

 

Natasha’s post-op report is as short as she can make it, knowing that Clint is shipping out for Venezuela the next day.

 

She meets up with him in his apartment, and the need overtakes both of them in a way it seldom does.

 

Natasha uses sex as a weapon so often that she rarely feels the need to indulge outside a mission—but when she does, it’s with Clint.

 

They don’t waste time sleeping afterwards, curling up around each other and letting silence blanket them.

 

“How was he?” Natasha asks, because she likes Steve, and she hasn’t seen him since his transformation.

 

After a moment, Clint says, “Small, frail. I had kind of forgotten.”

 

“I hadn’t,” Natasha replies, amused.

 

Clint snorts. “You have a memory like an elephant, I know.” He’s quiet, and then adds, “We had fun, though. What are you going to do with him?”

 

Natasha doesn’t bother asking how Clint knows that she’ll volunteer her services this time around, when she’d been reluctant to look after Stark or Banner.

 

He’s one up on her, and it’s Cap, so of course she’ll go.

 

“I think I’ll teach him how to throw a punch,” Natasha replies. “If he’s stuck like this, he’ll need that information. He doesn’t like bullies.

Clint chuckles and runs a hand through her sweat-damp hair. “There’s something else.”

 

“Isn’t there always?”

 

“It’s about Bruce.”

 

Natasha stiffens slightly, because she likes Bruce, but there’s something dangerous that lives beneath his skin, something she can’t control or manipulate. “Oh?”

 

“Nothing bad,” Clint assures her. “Nothing that’s going to put anybody in danger, anyway. It’s just—you’ll see.”

 

Natasha pokes him in the side, right where he’s most ticklish. “Tell me.” She doesn’t like not having key information.

 

“I think he’s in love with Stark, but I’m not sure about Miss Potts.”

 

She’s not terribly surprised. “How bad?”

 

“Worst case scenario, Bruce finds a cave somewhere and hides for a while,” Clint says.

 

Natasha nods. She can live with that. “Are you up for round two?”

 

Clint smirks. “More than,” he says, and puts his clever mouth and fingers to use.

 

~~~~~

 

She’s more relaxed than she would have been without an uninterrupted eight hours with Clint, and so after that and a few hours of sleep, she’s ready to take on the world.

 

But Coulson knows her well enough not to call until the third day she’s in New York.

 

Natasha answers with, “When do you need me there?”

 

“Tomorrow,” he replies. “There’s a conference, and Pepper’s in Mexico. I have today off, but tomorrow isn’t good for me.”

 

“I’ll be there,” she promises, partly because it’s her duty, partly because she knows she owes Clint, and partly because she’s curious. She wants to see what this version of Steve is like.

 

She spends her off day restocking her wardrobe and other supplies, as well as running a few errands that she refuses to leave to the SHIELD staff. It’s unusual for her to have a day off, so she takes advantage of it, and appears at Stark Tower early.

 

Coulson answers the door. “I’ll be back by seven,” he promises.

 

Natasha, who knows exactly how SHIELD works, says, “I’ll be here until you return.”

 

Coulson’s lips twitch upward in the approximation of a smile. “Yes, well, Bruce and Stark should be back late tonight if something comes up, and Dr. Foster is returning this afternoon if it’s not working.”

 

“We’ll be fine,” Natasha says. After all, she managed an entire afternoon with a pint-sized Tony Stark without killing him. She suspects that Steve will be far less annoying.

 

Coulson must be running short on time, because he introduces her to Steve perfunctorily and says, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” He ruffles Steve’s hair, nods at Natasha, and then she’s alone with a very small, very frail Steve Rogers.

 

As far as Natasha is concerned, that’s all the more reason for him to learn how to fight.

 

“I’ll teach you how to defend yourself,” she offers.

 

Steve looks at her cautiously. “Really?”

 

“When people underestimate you, you can do more damage,” she points out.

 

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Good point.”

 

Natasha knows where the gym is in Stark Tower, and she toes off her tennis shoes. They don’t bother with the gloves—Natasha knows how to be careful, and Steve can’t do much damage. Plus, the gloves would be so large as to be laughable. He listens to her instructions with a serious frown and punches as hard as he can, keeping his wrist straight, as instructed.

 

“Good,” Natasha praises him. “Now, a kick.”

 

Steve has to suck on his inhaler a half hour in, but he does pretty well for a child with no other training.

 

She teaches him every dirty trick she knows, because it might come in handy, and he’s like a sponge as soon as he realizes that she knows what she’s talking about.

 

They break for lunch, and Natasha takes him to a nearby pizza place, where they fold the greasy slices and devour them quickly.

 

“Did you know my dad?” Steve asks as they walk back to Stark Tower.

 

“No, I didn’t,” Natasha replies. “Why do you ask?”

 

Steve shrugs. “I just get the feeling that a lot of people look at me and see somebody else is all.”

 

She’s not quite sure that to do with that. “There are a lot of people who look at me and see what they want,” she replies, rather than answering his unspoken question. “You can that use it to your advantage.”

 

Natasha explains some of the fundamentals of spycraft as they ride the elevator up, sharing some of the same lessons she’d learned at his age, although in an infinitely less painful manner.

 

She’s a bit taken aback when they enter the living quarters to find Bruce, Tony, and Jane Foster talking.

 

“Bruce!” Steve shouts, and hurries over to perch next to him on the couch. “Guess what we did today?”

 

Natasha might not have Clint’s eyes, but she’s used to reading people. She can see the flash of jealousy on Stark’s face before he covers it with a smirk and a sip of his drink. She sees the frown on Dr. Foster’s face as the woman clearly senses that something isn’t quite right, even if she doesn’t know what’s going on.

 

And she sees the quick, wistful look Bruce sends Tony when he thinks the other man isn’t looking, telegraphing his desires.

 

Instead of commenting on any of that, Natasha says, “You guys are back early.”

 

“Perks of owning your own plane,” Tony replies with a smug grin. “They have to leave when you want them to, and Bruce was worried about Steve.”

 

“I knew he was in good hands,” Bruce says mildly, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Did you get your book read?”

 

“Agent Phil helped me,” Steve says, nodding.

 

Tony clears his throat. “Dr. Foster, would you care to join me? I had something I wanted to try out.”

 

Disappointment fills Bruce’s eyes, followed swiftly by resignation. “Natasha, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. I think Phil said he might join us.”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Natasha says. “I have a few things I’d like to get done.”

 

She’s fairly certain that she won’t be able to spend an evening with them without wanting to bang Bruce and Stark’s heads together, and she finds it best to avoid those sorts of temptations whenever possible.

 

“Thanks,” Bruce says.

 

Natasha smiles warmly. “Any time, Dr. Banner. Steve, you were a great sparring partner.”

 

It’s a very small kindness, but Steve’s chest puffs out, and Bruce smiles knowingly, and Natasha leaves with the feeling of a job well done.

 

She texts Coulson on her way to her apartment. _Let me know how things turn out._

 

 _Of course_ , comes the reply, and Natasha puts it out of her mind.

 

She has another assignment starting tomorrow, but she finds herself wishing that she could watch this play out.

 

**8.**

 

Bruce feels as though he’s unraveling. He’s happy here; he’s happier than he’s been in years, but that’s only led to wanting things he simply cannot have. He’s just not sure what he’s going to do about it.

 

Leaving is always an option, at least once Steve is back to normal, but he doesn’t want to lose this.

 

“Bruce, there you are,” Tony says, entering Bruce’s lab, giving him a sharp look. “Are you okay?”

 

Bruce nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

 

Tony doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t press for more information. “Where’s Steve?”

 

“Phil took him into work today,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony smiles. “I’ll have to send him a fruit basket.”

 

“I think he’d prefer a couple of pounds of good coffee,” Bruce counters.

 

“That can be arranged, too,” Tony replies. “Come on, I need to catch Pepper before she leaves.”

 

Bruce rubs his palms against his khakis. “I can meet you later.”

 

“Nonsense,” Tony replies, gripping Bruce’s arm. “She’ll want to see you, too.”

 

Bruce doesn’t seem to have much choice, because Tony’s dragging him along in his wake, much as he always does.

 

“I’ve noticed that people seem to be lining up to look after Steve,” Tony observes.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

 

Tony pulls Bruce into his bedroom, where Pepper is putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She smiles at both of them impartially in the mirror and doesn’t question Bruce’s presence.

 

“What gift horse?” Pepper asks.

 

“Phil took Steve to work with him today,” Bruce says.

 

Pepper pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “Phil feels responsible, and they are rather attached to each other.”

 

"I just don't see why everybody likes Steve better than they liked me," Tony complains, although there's plenty of humor in his voice.

 

Pepper raises an eyebrow and turns to face both of them. "Well, he is much less annoying than you."

 

"Traitor," Tony accuses with the hint of a pout, his tone light. Bruce knows better, though; Tony’s jealousy is very real, as is the hurt that lies just under the surface. "Bruce? Do you concur?"

 

Bruce can’t resist the opportunity to tease Tony a bit, although he takes the question seriously. "Well..." He draws out the word, and Tony's pout intensifies. "Not _everyone_  likes Steve better."

 

Tony slings an arm over Bruce's shoulders triumphantly, and Bruce resolutely ignores the way his stomach flips. "See? Bruce has exquisite taste, Pepper."

 

"Of course he does," Pepper replies complacently, the trace of a smirk on her face. "It's one of the reasons Stark Industries hired him. And, as it turns out, Bruce is less annoying than you are, too."

 

Tony puts a hand over the glowing circle in the center of his chest. "How you wound me."

 

Pepper just shakes her head, smiles, and kisses Tony, while Tony's arm is still wrapped around Bruce's shoulders. It should feel awkward, but then Pepper kisses Bruce on the cheek and says, "I have a meeting. Be good, boys."

 

"We're always good!" Tony calls after her, and Bruce snorts just as Pepper rolls her eyes.

 

But all three of them are grinning.

 

“Does this mean I’ve got you all to myself today?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce manages a sincere smile, even though a day spent with Tony means a day being reminded of what he can’t have. “I’m all yours,” Bruce promises.

 

Tony seems energized, moving from project to project so quickly that Bruce has a hard time keeping up. “There has to be a way to improve the power output on the Quinjet,” Tony says.

 

“You know, we don’t have to get everything done today,” Bruce says mildly.

 

Tony pauses. “You’ll have the kid again tomorrow, won’t you?”

 

“Probably,” Bruce replies. “I have a responsibility.”

 

Tony’s mouth twists unhappily. “I’ve heard that before.”

 

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I looked after you, didn’t I? I’d do the same for any of our friends.” When Tony doesn’t say anything, Bruce adds, “I meant what I said earlier, you know. I’d rather—”

 

He cuts himself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

 

“You’d rather what?” Tony asks with quiet intensity.

 

“I’d rather be in the lab with you,” Bruce replies. “And I—you have to know that.”

 

He refuses to meet Tony’s eyes, but he feels Tony’s hand grasp his upper arm in a strong grip. “I’ve been a prick.”

 

“Maybe a little,” Bruce agrees. “But I get why.”

 

“You might be the only one,” Tony says with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

 

Bruce grips Tony’s wrist. “Yeah, well. I’ve had a few bad days, too, you know.”

 

“Recently?”

 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate,” Bruce replies, finally looking up.

 

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Come on.” He twists his hand, breaking Bruce grip, and grasping Bruce’s wrist.

 

“Where are we going?” Bruce asks.

 

“We’re going to have fun,” Tony insists. “Something you haven’t had in far too long.”

 

“Tony, I’m fine.”

 

“Then call it an apology for being a jerk,” Tony replies.

  
“You don’t owe me an apology, and science is fun.”

 

Tony pulls him into the elevator. “So is eating. Have you eaten yet today?”

 

“You know I haven’t,” Bruce says, and his stomach grumbles at the mention of food. When he’s with Tony, in the middle of a train of thought, he often forgets to eat.

 

Tony nods decisively. “So, we’re going to eat lunch, and when Coulson brings Steve back tonight, we’ll watch a movie. He likes movies, right?”

 

Bruce feels as though a bit of the weight he’s been carrying has been lifted. “Yeah, he does.”

 

Tony nods. “Then that’s settled.”

 

Tony’s at his most charming during lunch, teasing the waitress and flirting a bit with Bruce, who knows better than to take him seriously. Bruce has just polished off his salmon when Tony says, “Can I ask you a question?”

 

Since Tony never requests permission before he asks, Bruce replies cautiously. “You can ask.”

 

“You don’t date. Why is that?”

 

Bruce swallows. “Who has the time?” he asks lightly, his voice a bit hoarse.

 

“It’s not because of the Other Guy, is it?”

 

“What do you think?” Bruce counters.

 

“There are people who won’t care about that,” Tony says.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “It’s not important. I have what I need.”

 

“But not what you want?” Tony asks.

 

“I have what I want, too.”

 

And maybe Bruce doesn’t have everything he wants, but he has enough.

 

“Hm,” Tony replies. “Pepper and I wanted to talk to you tonight. Maybe after Steve is in bed.”

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “You _and_ Pepper?”

 

“I’d tell you what it is now, but she made me swear that I’d keep my mouth shut. She thinks I’ll fuck it up,” Tony explains with a wry smile. “She’s probably right.”

 

Something of Bruce’s trepidation must have shown on his face, because Tony says, “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

 

Bruce nods. “I trust you.”

 

Tony wipes his mouth with his napkin and stands, “Let’s get going. We have work to do.”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon working on one of Bruce’s projects, exploring the potential uses for gamma radiation. It’s not exactly Tony’s area of interest, and Bruce takes it as the extension of the apology Tony had offered earlier.

 

It feels good to work together after weeks of Tony mostly avoiding him, but Bruce’s desire is acute after so prolonged a period in Tony’s presence. He finds it ironic—it had been Tony’s absence that had alerted Bruce to his changed feelings, and now it’s Tony’s presence that won’t let Bruce go back to the way things had been before.

 

Bruce’s life just keeps getting more and more complicated.

 

Coulson drops Steve off in the late afternoon, and Bruce half-expects Tony to disappear immediately. Instead, Tony turns his attention to Steve. “Do you want to play a game?”

 

Steve regards him warily. “Really?”

 

“You like to play soldier, right?” Tony asks.

 

Steve nods silently.

 

“I’ve got a way to let you do that,” Tony offers. “It’ll be great.”

 

A cautious smile takes shape on Steve’s face. “Okay.”

 

Tony shoots Bruce a look that he can’t read. “I’ll order something in for dinner tonight,” he says. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

 

Bruce gives it half an hour, and then goes up to the living quarters because he’s a little worried about leaving them alone any longer than that.

 

Pepper’s there, though, talking to Tony, and Steve is standing in the middle of a holographic simulation, with a child-sized holographic rifle. Bruce doesn’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed.

 

“Field testing,” Tony says, as though reading Bruce’s mind. “Granted, this is a military grade simulation, and not one of the games we’re planning on marketing to kids, but I figured why not. How is it, Steve?”

 

“Cool!” Steve says, sounding a little breathless.

 

“Do you need your inhaler?” Bruce asks.

 

Steve shakes his head. “I’m okay!”

 

Bruce smiles. Steve sounds like just another kid, caught up in a video game.

 

“He’s fine,” Pepper says. “I doubt we’ll be able to drag him away for dinner.”

 

Tony smirks. “Nothing like giving a kid a new toy, at least until they get bored.” He shares a knowing look with Pepper.

 

Bruce frowns, catching a different undercurrent than he’s used to. “I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.”

 

“Sit down, Bruce,” Pepper invites. “I need to talk to you about a restructuring plan for your division.”

 

Bruce frowns. “The division is pretty much just me.”

 

“Which is why we’re restructuring and adding more people,” Pepper says. “You can get twice as much done, and I know Tony talked to you about marketing some of your puzzles and games.”

 

Bruce is still a little flustered by that idea. “Yeah, okay, I guess.”

 

He can’t say that he’s thought about his future with Stark Industries, mostly because he tries not to think of the future, just the present, but it appears as though Pepper’s done enough planning for three people.

 

When dinner arrives, Bruce expects Tony to leave, but he sticks around, asking Steve what he thought of the game, and what his favorite and least favorite parts were.

 

Steve goes back to the game, and he keeps begging for another fifteen minutes when Bruce tells him it’s time for bed. Bruce gives in twice, and then he insists that Steve shut it down for the night.

 

If only to put Bruce out of the misery of waiting.

 

“You were the one who insisted on waiting,” Tony says, waving at Pepper. “You explain.”

 

Pepper fixes Bruce with a look, tilting her head. “Actually, I think you’d better show him, Tony.”

 

Tony grins. “Hands-on demonstrations _are_ my specialty.”

 

Bruce isn’t sure what he expects, but it’s not Tony wrapping a hand around the back of Bruce’s neck, or Tony pressing his lips to Bruce’s. Bruce opens his mouth in surprise, and Tony flicks his tongue against Bruce’s bottom lip, and it’s everything that Bruce has wanted for so long he’s not convinced he’s awake.

 

He makes a needy sound he’s surprised to hear coming from his own throat and pulls back, glancing a little wildly at Pepper, who’s smiling smugly.

 

“I thought so,” she says simply. “The question is whether you want both of us.”

 

Bruce’s heart is hammering wildly, and he takes a couple of deep breaths, knowing that now would be a very bad time to lose control. “I—yes, but—”

 

“Good,” Tony says. “That’s all I need to know.”

 

Bruce holds him back with a hand over Tony’s arc reactor. “You have to know I haven’t—I don’t know if I can. I might not—”

 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Pepper says, interrupting him. “That’s the beauty of having three people in the relationship. Now, I think it’s my turn.”

 

And then she’s kissing him, and Bruce decides that now is not the time to think of the future—he’s much too busy enjoying what he has in the present.

 

**9.**

 

Tony very nearly manages to get out of babysitting Steve. He’s well aware that his feelings towards Steve Rogers—at any age—are colored by his relationship to his father, and Howard Stark’s near-constant absence.

 

But Pepper had pointed out that Tony’s avoidance was hurting Bruce, and that’s about the last thing Tony wants, so he makes more of an effort.

 

That’s probably why he’s in this predicament; a couple of weeks ago, no one would have even bothered asking Tony to look after Steve.

 

“It’s an afternoon,” Bruce says. “And there’s no one else available.”

 

“I’m not available,” Tony counters.

 

Bruce just gives him a look. “Pepper said you’d have no trouble clearing your schedule.”

 

“Pepper is a traitor, and you’re both ganging up on me,” Tony protests, but without heat. They’d ganged up on him the night before to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.

 

Bruce’s knowing grin tells Tony that his mind has gone to the same place. “You didn’t mind last night.”

 

“Totally different scenario,” Tony protests. “That was sex; this is Steve. And those two things should not be in the same proximity.”

 

Bruce hums. “Steve this afternoon, sex tonight.”

 

“Are you offering?” Tony asks. They’re still feeling out this relationship thing, and Bruce has been willing to give, but has been skittish about receiving.

 

There’s a challenging light in Bruce’s eyes. “What do you want?”

 

“Let me blow you,” Tony says. “Please?”

 

Bruce flushes, and his pupils dilate in arousal. “That might not be such a great idea.”

 

“I’ll stop if you want,” Tony promises. “Come on, Bruce. Your control is amazing.”

 

Bruce takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t believe that’s what you want.”

 

“I want to see you come apart,” Tony says. “And we’ll work up to that if we have to, but that’s what I want.”

 

Bruce nods. “Watch Steve this afternoon, and yeah. I’ll try.”

 

Tony brings Bruce close in a deep, dirty kiss, a promise of things to come. “You’ve got it.”

 

Bruce swallows audibly, and then gives Tony a brief, dry kiss. “Thanks.”

 

“Thank me when we both get out of this alive,” Tony counters. “Seriously, this is not a good idea.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Bruce assures him. “Just think of tonight.”

 

Tony gives him a sour look. “And he’s much less annoying than I was.”

 

“Strangely enough, I still like you better,” Bruce replies lightly, and follows it up with another kiss. “Be good.”

 

“I always am,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce is gone in the next moment, which means that Tony is well and truly stuck with Steve, at least until the evening.

 

Steve is still playing the war game that Tony had set up for him with a single-minded focus that Tony finds oddly reassuring, mostly because it confirms that Steve is actually human.

 

“Do you have reading you’re supposed to do, or other homework?” Tony asks.

 

Steve doesn’t even look at Tony. “Can I do it later?”

 

“Bruce might accuse me of contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” Tony says. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I have to be the responsible one here.”

 

“Fifteen minutes,” Steve says with the hint of a whine.

 

Tony shrugs. “Fifteen minutes, but that’s it.”

 

He lets twenty minutes go by, and then calls out to Steve, “Hey, time’s up.”

 

“It hasn’t been fifteen minutes,” Steve whines.

 

“It’s been twenty,” Tony replies. “The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can go back to your game.”

 

Steve heaves a deep sigh. “No fair.”

 

“Life isn’t fair,” Tony replies. “Get used to it.”

 

Steve grimaces. “I _know_ that. I’ll bet Bruce would be nicer.”

 

“Probably,” Tony agrees cheerfully. “Bruce _is_ nicer than I am most of the time. Too bad you’re stuck with me.”

 

Steve grumbles as he starts working on the homework Bruce had set for him, but he soon settles down to work. “What’s this word?” he asks after a few minutes.

 

Tony glances over his shoulder. “Curious.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It means you want to know about things,” Tony replies.

 

“That’s a good thing, right?”

 

“I think so. You can’t learn if you don’t ask questions.”

 

Steve nods. “I want to learn. I’m going to be an officer when I grow up.”

 

Tony feels a weird twisting in his gut. “You know, I bet you will. But in case you decide the Army’s not for you, you could do something else.”

 

“I wanna be like my dad,” Steve insists. “He was a hero.”

 

Tony swallows. “Yeah, I know he was, champ.”

 

“What did your dad do?” Steve asks innocently.

 

Tony rubs the back of his neck. “He ran the same company I run now, and he worked with the Army. He made weapons.”

 

“That’s cool!” Steve enthuses.

 

“It’s only cool when the weapons don’t end up being used by the other side,” Tony replies.

 

Steve looks up, startled. “Really?”

 

“When you make a weapon, you never know who’s going to end up using it,” Tony says.

 

“I guess,” Steve says thoughtfully. “So, you don’t make weapons anymore.”

 

“Not if I can help it,” Tony says honestly.

 

“Because you can’t control them?”

 

“Something like that,” he agrees.

 

“Do you miss your dad?” Steve asks.

 

Tony doesn’t want to answer that question, but he finally says, “I missed him every day when he was alive, and I rarely miss him now. Do your homework.”

 

Steve seems to sense that the conversation is over, because he doesn’t ask any other questions, just focuses his head on his book.

 

Tony wants a drink, but resists the urge, mostly because he knows that Bruce and Pepper would frown on it.

 

As soon as Steve finishes the assignments Bruce had given him, he goes back to his game while Tony watches, trying to keep his mind on the things that need to be changed, the possible problems and glitches to be solved.

 

He tries not to think about the man his father had spent so many days searching for, because it’s easier that way, to think of the child and the man as separate entities. He can deal with Steve better that way.

 

If he can forget his father, he can deal with Steve just fine.

 

Pepper gets back earlier than Bruce does, and she greets him with a kiss. “I see you did just fine on your own,” she says in a low voice.

 

Tony shrugs. “We did okay.”

 

“I think Bruce was cooking tonight,” Pepper says. “Steve, how are you?”

 

“Good!” he calls, right in the middle of killing a soldier that bears a striking resemblance to the WWI German soldiers his father had fought in the trenches.

 

Changing the uniform had been a simple bit of coding, something Tony could have done in his sleep, but it seems to have made Steve happy.

 

“Bruce told me about your deal,” Pepper says in an undertone.

 

“Audience welcome,” Tony replies with a smirk.

 

Pepper grins. “And audience participation?”

 

“Always encouraged,” Tony replies.

 

Pepper kisses his cheek. “You did good today, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony wraps an arm around her waist. “Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

 

And for the moment, Tony is content.

 

**10.**

 

Steve wakes slowly, feeling groggy and exhausted, and he lies in bed a moment, spread-eagled and boneless.

 

Gradually, he realizes that the bed is smaller than he remembers, and that his clothes had been ripped at the seams. When he sits up, the remains of his garments flutter against his skin, and he pulls them off without thinking about it.

 

He’s stronger than he remembers being, and—

 

Everything comes rushing back—facing an unknown enemy in his apartment, getting hit by a beam of light, and then—

 

Steve groans, and puts his head in his hands.

 

Unlike Bruce and Tony, he remembers everything all too well.

 

There’s a timid knock on the door, and Bruce sticks his head inside the room. “Uh, hey, Steve. Jarvis said you were back to normal. You okay?”

 

“Fine,” Steve insists. “I just—need a minute.”

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Bruce replies. “Take all the time you need. I’ll make sure that Tony holds off calling in the troops for a few hours.”

 

Steve wishes he were back in his apartment, but he’s at least grateful to make it to the bathroom unmolested, and for the multiple showerheads. He has no idea who arranged for it, but there are clean clothes his size right outside the door

 

When he emerges into the kitchen, Bruce has already started breakfast. “How many eggs?” he asks, as though it’s any other morning. Tony and Pepper are nowhere to be seen.

 

“Three—no, four,” Steve says, his stomach rumbling. “Did I eat dinner last night?”

 

“Not very much of one.”

 

Now that Bruce has said it, Steve vaguely recalls eating a very small portion of Bruce’s stir-fry. “I’m a little hungry,” he admits.

 

“I thought you might be when Jarvis raised the alarm,” Bruce says, and cracks another couple of eggs into the hot skillet.

 

Steve clears his throat. “Thanks. For everything.”

 

Bruce doesn’t turn to look at him. “It’s fine.”

 

“But feel free to thank me as often as you like.” Tony’s voice says from behind Steve.

 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he thinks he’s starting to get it now, in a way he hadn’t before. “Thank you, Tony.”

 

It’s the right thing to say, especially since it takes the wind right out of Tony’s sails “Wait, what?”

 

“Thank you,” Steve repeats, if only because Tony doesn’t expect him to say it again. “For everything.”

 

Tony gives him a hard look, and then admits grudgingly, “It was mostly all Bruce.”

 

Bruce grins at Tony over his shoulder. “It was a team effort.”

 

Steve wasn’t born yesterday, and he knows that sort of look. It’s the kind normally shared by lovers, but—

 

Pepper enters the kitchen, impeccably dressed as always. “There you are,” she says, wrapping an arm around Tony, and giving Bruce a heated look.

 

And suddenly, a dozen things that Steve had seen from a child’s eye view make sense from the advantage of an adult. It feels a little odd to him, but they all seem happy, and then Pepper turns and gives him a hug. “Welcome back, Steve.”

 

She smells like he remembers, from spending the day with her, and it’s strange to have the memories of a child overlaying those of an adult.

 

Okay, it’s strange and awkward, but these people had stuck by him, however reluctantly. All the Avengers had, and it’s good to know that they’ll have his back, no matter how inconvenient or strange.

 

Steve clears his throat, knowing who should be his first call. “Has anyone called Agent Coulson yet?”

 

Tony hands over a phone, with Coulson’s name displayed prominently. “Just hit send.”

 

“I know how to use a cell phone now, Tony,” Steve complains, but he does it with a smile.

 

“Then show us what you’ve got, Cap,” Tony challenges.

 

“And tell Phil that he’s welcome to come over for breakfast,” Bruce insists.

 

The phone rings once, and Coulson picks up. “Stark? Is everything okay?”

 

Steve clears his throat. “It’s me. I’m back,” he says, feeling strangely glad and proud. “You should eat breakfast with us.”

 

“I’ll be right over,” Coulson replies, and Steve hangs up.

 

He looks around the kitchen and says, “Thank you.”

 

Tony shrugs. “I have it on good authority that you were far less annoying than I was.”

 

“I’d believe that,” Steve says readily, and then grins at Tony’s disgruntled expression. Eventually, everyone joins in, and Steve can’t help but feel that he’s finally home.


End file.
